Silas Bronzehand squelched along the side of the road, the light rain slicking his hair to his head and pattering against the delicate machinery that laced his torso and right arm. A passerby could only be blind to miss the disgruntled scowl on the man’s face. A chaotic jumble of creases and wrinkles were furrowed in between prominent brown eyebrows. A clenched jaw and frown as deep as the mud he was slogging through formed the face of a stranger no one would want to greet while passing by. Silas’ frigid gray eyes scanned his surroundings with an intense, cold gaze, yet those who saw him knew not what he was watching, waiting for. Silas was watching for customers. He was a tinker by trade. In his youth, Silas was apprenticed under a nationally famous tinker by the name of Edwin von Otto III, who designed the first machine. Silas, a bright young boy at the time, was swept up by Edwin into the world of mechaneering, the designing of machines. But his good fortunes ended there, and he had been on a downward spiral ever since. A horse-drawn carriage thundered past Silas, sweeping mud and water into Silas, scattering his already-saturated outfit with flecks of dirt. Silas sneered at the crude vehicle as it sped on, disappearing into the fog. As a glob of mud slid down Silas’ face and into his eye, something snapped inside the rain-sodden man. He plucked out an auburn gem from a pouch on his belt and clicked it into an ornate brass socket on his forearm. The contraption began to hum, and several of the pipes that twisted around his arm began to heat up. Silas wiped the mud from his eyes and took aim at the carriage, sticking his arm out palm-first. He c[i]o[/i]cked his head to the side, squinting to make out the crude vehicle’s dim form. Once he lined up the unlucky carriage with a single pipe that extended just past his wrist, Silas reached up with his left and and flicked a tiny lever. The carriage blew apart with a thunderclap, scattering shrapnel in every direction as fire consumed the husk that remained. Sparkling auburn gemsmoke blended with steam to create a powerful blast stronger than any battering ram and more deadly than any cannon. And, when under pressure, the volatile combination could be released and launched at targets some 100 meters away. And it all fit on Silas’ forearm. A deadly weapon, and Silas let a proud smile cross his face for a brief second as the banshee cries of wounded horses and the crackle of flames were dulled by the rain and thunder. The primitive ways of the world would end, one way or another. [spoiler]Introducing and developing our villain![/spoiler]